


Convalescence: Extras

by PaintedHeart



Series: Convalescence [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Comfort, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Family, Fluffy, Funny, Hurt, Missing Scenes, One-Shots, Random - Freeform, Romance, extras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:08:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedHeart/pseuds/PaintedHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shot style fics which didn't make it into the final piece, either because they were a bit too out of character, or because I thought of the scenes after I'd already moved the story too far forward to use them. It's meant as a companion to "Convalescence," and will probably be pretty fluffy in nature, but they're fun extras that I hope you enjoy reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ellie Dances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Deleted Scene from Chapter 6: Ellie Dancing**  
>  I know these are supposed to be missing scenes, filling in some of the gaps of the story or else ideas which I had after moving too far along in the story to incorporate, but this one’s a bit different. This is like a deleted scene because it would have been a bit out of character, even for an AU. But I couldn’t get the image out of my head, so here we go!
> 
>  **Recap:** Joe Miller’s trial has been scheduled. Ellie has just her first two long, frustrating days at court. Alec had spent the previous night on Ellie’s (very uncomfortable) couch and Lucy has already given them shit for it. Now they’re unwinding at a bar on the edge of Broadchurch.

At first she dances by herself, carried away by the music and in no particular need of a partner. Eventually, however, some bloke moves in and dances with her. She goes along with it, not out of any particular interest in the man, but simply because it's easier to dance with someone. He's polite enough, keeps his hands away from any inappropriate areas, and they dance together for a while.

She glances over at Hardy every now and then, just to make sure he hasn't left her in the bar. He hasn't. He's waiting for her at their booth, watching over the rim of his beer. His expression is blank but his big, dark eyes never leave her.

The man leans over and says something in her ear, but she can’t make it out. She laughs, hoping it’s an appropriate response, and she guesses by his smile that it is. Those hands, which previously had been playing it very safe, were now sliding a bit lower on her back. She considers saying something, but he isn’t out of line yet and she’s still enjoying the dance. His fingers splay across her hips as he moves closer. It’s a bit strange, but she closes her eyes, shutting him out while she continues to move to the music.

Just as her dance partner’s hands start to slip lower, warm fingers close on her shoulder and a voice interrupts them.

“I’ll take it from here,” Alec says. Ellie’s eyes shoot open in shock. Alec looks friendly enough, but there’s steel in his voice: he isn’t going to entertain any argument from the man. Reluctantly, her stranger moves away. A second later, Alec blocks her view of him by stepping in front of her.

“Do you even know how to dance?” she asks him.

“Shut up, Miller.” He nudges her. “Move.”

She does, awkwardly at first. He follows her lead and he’s even worse than she is. But there’s still a gratuitous amount of alcohol in her system, so she warms up to dancing again quickly. She laughs at him a bit because he’s so far out of his comfort zone.

“Sorry if I…interrupted,” he says into her ear, leaning into her.

“No you’re not.” She knows she’s right – she can tell by the look on his face.

“Did you really want his hands all over you like that?” He sounds incredulous, as if he can’t imagine a scenario where she might enjoy something like that.

“Not all of us can be pillars of isolation, Hardy. No, I didn’t want his hands on my arse, but sometimes a little attention is nice.”

He’s silent for a bit, mulling that piece of information over. Then, the music slows and he startles her even more by tugging her in close. Her arms flail slightly before she finally settles them around him.

“Why are you still dancing with me?” she asks. He looks down at her for a second.

“Did you want him to come back?”

Well…not precisely. She isn’t sure she’s comfortable with this, either, but...he’s a surprisingly good dancer when it comes to the slow stuff, and he’s warm. Lulled by those things, she allows him to take the lead.

“You’re good at this.”

“I took lessons before my wedding,” he says, his voice slightly gruff—as though he’s admitting something embarrassing. She does giggle a little bit at the mental picture that paints.

“Did you?”

“Oh aye, didn’t want to embarrass myself or Tess when it came time for the first dance. I got pretty good at it. It’s been a while, but I remember.”

She thinks about that for a while as they dance, a nervous Alec Hardy taking ballroom dancing lessons. She’s almost sad when the song ends and they step away from the dancefloor.

"Ready to head home?" he asks, and she nods. She'll feel silly about all of this later, but she’s drunk enough now that all she feels is content. And she knows one thing now with certainty: she needs a divorce.


	2. Ellie's Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t get to include this one because I thought of it after I’d posted chapter 12, and if wouldn’t have made sense for Ellie to date someone else once Alec had spoken up. I like this scene because I think it shows her starting to open up the possibility of men again after Joe, even if she isn’t fully comfortable with the thought yet.
> 
> Plus I just thought the mental image was too good.
> 
>  **Recap:** This is set in the midst of Chapter 7, while Ellie is waiting for Joe to sign their divorce papers. She’s thinking about trying to move on and she knows there’s at least one viable option in Broadchurch…

Ellie knocks on Hardy’s door. She isn’t sure why she’s here, except for that he’s her only friend and therefore the only person outside of Lucy that she feels she can socialize with. It’s a terrifying thought: her relationship with Lucy is strained at best, and Hardy socializes about as well as a wild animal. But she’s desperate to share her news with someone, so Hardy it is.

She’s already braced for his exasperated glares.

“Come in, Miller,” he calls when she knocks.

“How’d you know it was me?” she asks as she closes the door behind her.

“Trained detective.” He looks up from the book he had been reading and arches an eyebrow. “You’re the only person who’s visited me since I moved in, it wasn’t exactly a leap.”

He’s feeling clever today. Well, in that case, maybe he’ll be more amused with her news than grumpy that she sought him out for something so trivial.

“Bit of news,” she says as she settles herself on a chair. Her orange coat is very bright in his little sitting room. He merely stares at her and she takes it as a sign she ought to continue the narrative.

“You know I’ve filed for divorce.” He’s still silent, bloody man. She may as well talk to a wall. Still, she won’t be deterred. She’s proud of herself. “Well, I’ve asked someone on a date.”

Finally, a reaction. Hardy’s eyebrows lift a bit before his expression settles into the ‘what-are-you-telling-me-for?’ look she’d been expecting.

“Alright,” he says. She fights the urge to roll her eyes at him. Maybe she should have told Lucy instead.

“With, uh…with Brian. You remember Brian.”

His brow furrows for a second. “Brian…Bri—” All of a sudden his eyes are comically wide as recognition strikes. “ _Dirty Brian?_ ”

She’s torn between laughing and being defensive: she chooses defensive. Her chin lifts and she crosses her arms.

“Well, he was keen to go, and he’s quite nice.”

“What about having his hands everywhere?” Hardy asks her, wiggling his fingers about to illustrate his point.

She arches an eyebrow at him and he recognizes the innuendo a second later.

“Well, what’re you telling me for?” he asks, just as she knew he would. He tears his gaze from hers to glare at the wall.

“Oh, I dunno. Because it’s a normal topic of conversation?”

“Really, Miller, I hardly think I’m the best person to converse with about…about your…your _dating_ life,” he replies, nearly spitting out the words. She can tell she’s made him exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Please don’t say it like that.” She’d like to think the idea of someone dating her is not completely outside the realm of possibility. She wonders all of a sudden if Hardy still thinks that storks deliver babies, even after having a child of his own.

“When?” he asks.

“When what?”

“When are you going out?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“You’re absolutely right, forget I asked.” He tosses his hands in the air and stands, turning away from her to head for his kitchen. Ellie chases him, wondering where the hell this fresh bout of his famous temper has come from. Surely it’s not because she’s going on a date?

“Tonight,” she tells him. “For dinner. Lucy’s watching the kids.”

He glances at her and then looks away again. A muscle twitches in his cheek, but he doesn’t bring up the topic again.

He’s in a foul temper for the rest of the afternoon. Strangely enough, that only seems to bolster her own, and she leaves actually looking forward to her evening with Brian.

**-AE-**

Her first date in years. She’s nervous, suddenly unsure about the new dress she’s bought for the occasion. She hasn’t worn a dress in a long time and she feels a bit exposed although it’s quite modest. She needn't have worried, it’s clear when he arrives to pick her up that Brian appreciates it.

“You look fantastic,” he tells her, brushing a friendly kiss over her cheek. He leads her to his car and they drive into town, headed for the Italian restaurant. Broadchurch doesn’t have an abundance of options.

“I’m a bit nervous,” she admits to him with a silly, shy smile. Brian looks at her, smiling back.

“Well, don’t have to be nervous about me,” he says. They had worked together for a long time, she isn’t sure why she’s so jittery except for the fact that it’s been years since she’s been in this situation: out with a new man, no idea what to expect from him as the evening goes on. She settles her dress over her legs and tries to calm her nerves.

People stare as she and Brian enter the restaurant.

She should have expected it. She’s persona-non-grata in town, and there are a few disapproving looks. It’s clear that she’s on a date, and she fights down the urge to announce that she’s filed for divorce from Joe.

Thankfully, no one says anything to them as they’re shown to a table.

“Blimey,” Brian murmurs as they take their seats. “Is it just me or did it get colder around here?”

Ellie tries to smile through the deep ache she feels. Once she would have gotten encouragement or teasing from the very same people that are now whispering about her over their meals. She always thinks she’s getting used to the sting of that, so it always surprises her when she isn’t.

“No work talk, yeah?” he asks her, and she nods. She’s pretty certain she can’t handle talking about SOCO right now, or police work, or their colleagues.

She tries to engage with him on other subjects, things like football and the upcoming summer tourist season. She holds her own through a chat about a few popular shows on the telly that she’s barely seen. Brian does most of the talking, which is nice, because for once she’s floundering in a social setting.

She eats and tries to focus on his conversation, and it’s such a contrast to her quiet meals with Hardy that she isn’t really sure how she should react. And then the very fact that she’s thinking about Hardy while on a date is annoying, and she stabs at her pasta with a little more force than she means to.

“Alright?” Brian asks pleasantly.

“Yeah, sorry. Sorry…what were you saying?” she asks, and this time she refuses to let her mind wander while he speaks.

By the end of the night, she’s exhausted. She isn’t sure why: Brian is nice to her, attentive to her when she speaks and he picks up the check without being offended when she offers to go Dutch. He’s quite cute, in his way. But there’s just something that isn’t clicking for her. She isn’t sure what it is, but she thinks she’s probably being silly for not feeling a bit more excited about how well the date has gone.

He walks her to her door. He’s nervous, she can tell.

“Thank you for letting me take you out,” he says with a smile. God, she really wishes she could be more into this: he’s very sweet. He’d be good for her.

“Thank you for dinner,” she replies.

“Alright then. Goodnight.” He hesitates, then leans over and kisses her cheek. She’s very grateful that it’s not her mouth, and she feels a pang of guilt about that. She tells herself he’s much too decent for her.

“Goonight, Brian,” she says, and she goes inside. She waits until he’s driven off. Then she sets out again, too keyed up to go to bed. The boys aren’t home so she doesn’t have to worry about leaving the house. Instead, she heads for the beach. She isn’t sure why she’s drawn there, but she is, and anyway it would be dangerous to navigate the cliffs in the dark, especially in flimsy footwear.

She thinks maybe the sound of the ocean will soothe her, because she’s disappointed by her own lack of enthusiasm for Brian.

Maybe she’s trying too hard. Maybe it’s too soon.

She hits the sand and kicks off her shoes. The cliffs are huge shadows over her, but she ignores them, letting her eyes roam over the surf instead. She’s right about the sound of the waves, and she can feel herself breathing deeper as she walks along, gathering her thoughts.

After a few minutes, she spots someone sitting on the sand, and she knows who it is immediately.

“Didn’t think you liked the beach,” she says as she draws nearer. She’s not sure if she’s relieved or annoyed to have come across Hardy tonight. Maybe both.

He looks up, startled to hear her voice, and she sees his eyes rake over her. He’s never seen her in a dress, and she wonders what he thinks before she can stop herself. She carefully settles onto the sand next to him.

“What’re you doing here?”

She shrugs and looks out at the water.

“What happened to Brian?” he asks, his tone a little more gentle.

“He went home.”

“Mm. Not so dirty after all then,” he says, and Ellie lets out a startled laugh. He glances at her and then actually _joins_ her, chuckling at bit at Brian’s expense. His is a low, rumbling laugh, almost inaudible over the sound of the surf. It takes her a moment to control her giggles.

“It was a nice date,” she tells him, determined to defend Brian in his absence, but she can tell she’s not doing a very good job.

“Couldn’t have been that good if you’re here with me,” he replies, and she smacks his arm. There’s more truth in that then she’d like to admit, especially to him, but they both know he’s right even if she doesn’t agree out loud.

“It’s just a bit…much,” she says instead. “I don’t think I’m ready for dating yet.”

A strange expression crosses his face, too quick for her to determine what it is. His eyes remain locked onto the waves.

“You will be,” he says. He sounds oddly resigned to this fact.

“Have you dated…since your ex?” she asks him quietly.

“No.” He says it in a way that closes the topic, but she can see that it’s because it hurts him to talk about. He isn’t mad at her, it’s just too raw.

She falls silent for a while and they both stare at the waves. A long time passes before he eventually gets to his feet. She lets him help her up because she’s wearing a skirt, and his hand is very warm as he pulls her to her feet in the sand.

“You’re different,” he says at last. “And one day you’ll want that…sort of…that intimacy back.”

He clearly isn’t comfortable with discussing it further, but she takes comfort in what he says. She nods and he walks her home. He doesn’t speak again, except for a quiet goodnight once they’ve made it to her doorstep. He turns away and walks back toward his own flat, and she goes up to bed feeling strangely at peace. She doesn’t think she’ll go out with Brian again…but maybe Hardy is right. Maybe she’ll want intimacy again enough to try again. Just…maybe not right this second.


	3. Clifftop Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Missing Scene: Clifftop Cottage**
> 
> So this one is an extra told from Hardy's POV. I absolutely couldn't resist the idea of him going up there and being all protective of Ellie and her sons, so I didn't, and here it is! :)
> 
> **Recap:** This is set toward the end of Chapter 18, when Alec leaves Ellie to go find out where Joe is and to warn him against staying in town.

The night around him is cold, but Alec doesn't notice. He's burning inside, burning with disgust that Joe Miller destroyed this town, destroyed the Latimer family, destroyed _Ellie_ , and is now walking free. As a detective, he hates the idea of a killer loose and a broken family without justice. As a person—one who cares very deeply for Ellie—he hates that there is the possibility of future pain coming her way.

He reaches the hut, and all is silent but the sound of the surf on the rocks below. Alec takes a deep breath and then makes his way toward the structure. There are no lights on, but he doesn't think his hunch is wrong. He doesn't have the key to the hut but he's pretty sure he doesn't need one. And when the knob turns easily in his hand, he knows for sure that he's right.

Joe is here.

He flips on the light and there Joe is, sitting on the couch with his hands over his mouth. He's rocking back and forth slightly. His eyes are unseeing, he doesn't even seem to have noticed that someone has arrived and flipped on the lights. Alec's lips curl at the sight of him, but he spreads his weight out evenly and keeps his eyes open. He has an idea that Joe is unstable and therefore unpredictable, and he's not taking any chances.

Slowly, as though he's waking from a dream, Joe blinks and turns his head in Alec's direction.

"DI Hardy."

"Not a DI anymore," Alec replies. "What are you doing up here, Joe?"

"She doesn't live in our house anymore. She took our boys away." Joe waves a hand in the vague direction of the town. "I thought I'd try to talk to her, explain…"

"You don't have anything to say to her." Alec's hackles have risen, he feels very alert. His heart, aided by the pacemaker, isn't threatening to betray him anymore. "Or to Tom. Or even wee Fred."

Joe's eyes flash, he looks almost animal all of a sudden, and Alec reminds himself: unstable and unpredictable.

"How long have you been sleeping with her? When did it start?"

Alec shakes his head. "No."

"What do you mean, no? You've been having an affair with my wife, and I want to know when it started!"

"She's your ex-wife, Joe." Alec knows he's baiting the man, but he can't help it. There's a part of him wants a fight, wants the satisfaction of laying hands on this pathetic excuse of man.

"I still love her."

Alec's heart, already beating more quickly than usual, is now pounding in his chest. If Joe looks like an animal, Alec feels like one: wild and driven by instinct. If Joe says those words again, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from punching him.

"Where is she? Where are my sons?"

"Safe." Alec watches as Joe gets to his feet. He is glaring at the other man, warning him silently to keep his distance. "Safer than you are. Nige Carter has got half the town looking for you. They're serious, Joe. They want you to be punished. They all know you did it. You need to leave Broadchurch now, tonight."

"You'd like that." Joe isn't heeding his warning. He is moving closer to Alec. Well hell, let him come. Maybe it's just his Scots blood, but he finds himself welcoming the fight.

"Everyone would like that," he snaps. "They won't stop until they've found you. They'll beat you, maybe to death, and the police aren't going to rush out here to save you, Joe. They're loyal to Ellie, you see."

Joe is close now, within reach. It's the opportunity Alec has been waiting for.

He explodes into motion, striking like a snake. He grasps Joe's collar in both hands, swings him around, and slams him into the wall. There's a satisfying thump as Joe's head strikes the wall hard and his eyes are momentarily dazed. Alec shakes him, wanting Joe to focus on his face. He wants to be very clear about this next part.

"If you go near them, Joe…if you go anywhere near the boys, if you go anywhere near Ellie, it will be me you'll deal with. And you don't want to go up against me. You've never met a bastard like me before. I won't bloody stop until you're no longer a threat to them, and I don't care what it takes."

His Scottish brogue is thick, rough as unpaved road. He slams Joe against the wall again and then releases him. They're no longer alone: the posse Nige rounded up is here, Alec can make out the sounds of them coming up the path. They're not quiet; some of them are probably drunk, more of them are probably armed.

He steps outside. Joe followed, still dazed.

Mark is with Nige at the front of a large group of men that Alec recognizes from town. His eyes run over the familiar faces, all of them twisted with hate. As much as he himself is disgusted by Joe, he knows he can't stand by and watch this mob tear the man apart. But Mark doesn't appear to be whipped up into the same sort of bloodlust that Nige and several of the other men.

Mark takes in Alec, but he doesn't question his presence. He turns his eyes to Joe.

"I should kill you where you stand. Here, where you murdered my son." His eyes are swollen with tears but he sounds more exhausted than enraged.

"You listen to me, Joe Miller. Listen well. You get outta Broadchurch and you go far. Go straight to the devil, for all I care. But if I ever see you back here again, _ever_ , I _will_ kill you. They'll haul me into prison smiling for it, too."

There's a pause. Joe's eyes are wide, terrified, as he looks from man to man. He turns, stumbling, and disappears down the path which winds down the far side of the cliff. Nige starts forward, but Alec shakes his head at him.

"I'll follow him, make sure he leaves town." He looks to Mark. He's never much liked the man, but he respects what Mark has done tonight. "Can you get this lot to go home?"

Mark holds his gaze for a long moment and then nods. He turns and says something quietly to Nige, and then he motions for the men with them to turn and head back toward town. Alec watches them for a second and then turns and heads in the direction Joe went. He can see the man making his way down the trail not too far ahead, and he sets out after him.

Alec's only comfort is that Joe is a coward. He follows Joe to his old house, waits outside while he gathers clothes and perhaps a few valuables as well, and then he comes out and heads for the one road out of Broadchurch.

Alec follows him all the way out of town. He doesn't know where Joe is headed and he doesn't much care, so long as it isn't back to the flat where Ellie and the boys are. When the time comes, when they have more evidence, he is confident that he'll be able to find Joe again.

He watches as the other man walks briskly away from Broadchurch, perhaps heading for a bigger road to hitch a ride with someone. When he is out of sight, Alec pulls out his cell phone and sends Ellie a text message. Then he heads home, trudging back into town for a quick nap and a shower. Tomorrow he and Ellie can discuss what comes next. He isn't used to having to plan for a future…but he finds himself looking forward to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Missing Scene: Christmas at Ellie's**
> 
> This is a fun little extra which was suggested to me by the amazing Anna. After I wrote about Ellie's uncomfortable sofa in Convalescence, she had a funny idea for Christmas...I wanted to draw it, but I think that was a BIT beyond my capabilities. Oh well, hope you get a nice mental image anyway!
> 
>  **Recap:** This is set after Convalescence, probably the first Christmas after the events of the story. I know it's almost May, but...I couldn't resist. This one's for you, Anna!

It isn't snowing, but it's bloody freezing outside.

Alec adjusts his coat and tries to burrow his face deeper into his scarf. The coastal breezes whip through the town of Broadchurch and despite his layers of protective clothing, seem to chill him right down to his bones. Even the short walk down the lane to Ellie's house is icy.

He'll never admit it out loud. He's Scottish, after all, and made of sterner stuff than these southerners. But privately he curses the winter winds coming in from the Channel.

He spots Mark and Beth Latimer peering at him from their front window. Mark is holding a bundle of blankets, and their daughter is no doubt snuggled deeply into them. He gives them a quick wave—being neighborly is just part of life here, and he's learning—and then turns up the drive toward Ellie's front door.

He hardly knocks before it's thrown open, and the noise from inside is startling after the silence around the rest of the town.

"Happy Christmas!" Ellie says, shouting over the ruckus Tom is making with his new drum-kit (thanks, Alec knows, to a windfall and some misplaced generosity on Lucy's part). Fred darts through the room behind her, thrilled with his boxy and brightly colored power-wheels…thing. Alec isn't sure what the proper word is for it, but it's clear that Fred loves it. As he steps into the room, reluctantly surrendering himself to the chaos, he spots Daisy seated on the couch. She looks beautiful in her red sweater, already so close to being a full-blown woman…it is stunning, because it can't have been sixteen years already, can it?

She smiles up at him. "You've been ages!"

"Market was packed. Ellie forgot to mention she was sending me on a fool's errand," he replies, moving toward the kitchen with his shopping bags.

"Are you saying you didn't get the pudding?" Ellie asks, swooping around him to grasp the bags and peek.

"'Course I got the Christmas pudding. One benefit of being a generally unpleasant arsehole is that people tend to get out of your way." His lips curl up ever so slightly into a satisfied smile. "Pudding, gravy and brandy all sorted out."

"Thank God!" Ellie is a blur of motion as unloads the bags. She can, finally, finish cooking Christmas dinner. Daisy gets off of the couch to help, stopping briefly by Alec's side.

"If I don't keep an eye on things, she's like to burn the house down," she whispers to him, and he grins as she makes him her conspirator.

"She never was much of a cook," he admits, and smiles at the sound of his daughter's laughter as she joins Ellie. He takes off his coat and hangs it by the door, pausing for a moment with his hand on the fabric. It was a gift from Ellie for his birthday, and he is glad that he is still in Broadchurch to use it after all. Very glad.

Then he turns and joins the boys in the sitting room, praising Tom's (frankly abysmal) drumming and jumping out of the way just in time to avoid a nasty collision between Fred's power wheels and his shins.

He finds himself feeling very cheerful about it all. Happy Christmas, indeed.

**-AE-**

The five of them are all but useless after dinner and pudding. With Daisy's help, the turkey turned out just right, and Tom has finally stopped banging on his drums. Alec thinks they'd better stock up on some headache medicine and ear plugs, or else no one on either side of the lane is going to sleep any time soon.

He lets his long legs sprawl out in front of him, and his arm is draped casually over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against Ellie's shoulder. She looks utterly content, a satisfied mother having done another excellent job at creating a perfect holiday for her children. Daisy is smiling at them both, but when Alec glances her way she lets her gaze drift back down to her tablet, where a holiday movie is playing on the screen.

Then, suddenly, Ellie remembers something. "I've got one more gift for you," she says as she bounces up from the couch. Alec looks up at her, and her wide and mischievous smile immediately lets him know he should be a tiny bit worried about whatever this last surprise is.

She hands him a small parcel which she's had waiting above the fireplace. He takes it, and it's thin and soft in his big hands. Some sort of clothing? He tears the paper, giving her one last sideways look. She is positively beaming.

He unfolds the fabric and reveals a T-shirt. As he turns it toward himself, he spots the words "Worst Cop in Britain," emblazoned over the chest. He gapes at it for a second, completely unsure of how to respond…

And then he bursts out laughing.

"Is that what you think of me then?" he asks her, still chuckling.

"Well, the press doesn't _always_ get it wrong." She pokes his chest. "You can't solve crime without me, after all."

He shakes his head at her in baffled affection, then pulls her close for a kiss.

"Mushy!" Tom protests, half-asleep, from the chair across from the couch.

He'll get used to it. These days Alec and Ellie are mushy a lot.

**-AE-**

Ellie wakes up alone on Boxing Day, but she's not alarmed. She can smell breakfast and coffee. Alec usually gets up before her, and she takes a moment to stretch out before heading downstairs to join him. The kids won't be up yet, although it probably won't be much longer before Daisy is awake. She's very pleased that they're all together for the holiday under one roof.

She pads into the kitchen, smiling at Alec while moving instinctively for the coffee pot as he wishes her a good morning. It takes her a second glance in his direction to realize that he is, in fact, wearing his shirt.

"You've put it on!" She is laughing, her grin lighting up the whole kitchen.

"'Course I have. Free advertising," he retorts as he hands her a plate of eggs, toast and beans. Still laughing, she carries her plate out to the sitting room so she can put on the telly while she eats.

Her eyes move over to the couch and she stops in her tracks.

"Oi, Hardy! Did you put that there?" she demands, and Alec sticks his head out from the kitchen.

Taped the middle cushion of the couch is a sign which reads, "Worst Sofa in Britain."

Her only response is laughter as he ducks back into the kitchen before she can lob her toast at him.

"Wanker," she calls in his direction, but there's no denying the affection behind the word. She very deliberately sits just to the right of the handmade sign and digs into her breakfast. Christmas with Alec Hardy has been very happy after all.


End file.
